


Princess

by Mustard_Fairy



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Humilliation, Pull-Up diapers, Verbal/Physical Abuse, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 07:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mustard_Fairy/pseuds/Mustard_Fairy
Summary: Zim's been caught with a Disney Princess Pull-Up under his shorts.





	Princess

Not once, did Zim even imagine his night would end up like this. Even considering the circumstances, he never thought he'd ever get caught. 'If you hadn't bent down to put your fucking guitar away,' he thought to himself, deeply regretting his earlier actions.

The concert was over, but the ringing was still loud in their ears as the band was leaving the stage. The fans were screaming for more. Zim took with him his cherished silver guitar, rather than leaving it with the stage crew to deal with. He paid no attention to Manson spitting every curse word imaginable toward those in charge of the lighting. "Every fucking night!" screamed the singer.

Zim took care in his guitars, and always put them back where needed. He brought his instrument over to its case and crouched down, unhooking the gold clasps that held it shut. Just like every other night, Zim wore his black faux leather short shorts, and as he crouched down, the smooth material dipped slightly in the back. Even in his short-lived rage toward the lighting technicians, something about Zim's backside caught Manson's eye, something pink.

The tall singer walked past, hovering over Zim like a building. His black lips pursed into a smirk when he saw more clearly what it was. A deep chuckle rumbled from his throat, "Hey Princess," he casually said, amusement in his voice. Zim froze in place, his heart leaping to his throat with all its might. He closed the guitar case with a quick 'snap' and slowly turned his head, not yet making eye contact with the intimidating singer. He couldn't bring himself to speak.

"Aww, what's the matter, Zim? Still not potty-trained?" Manson asked, tauntingly, in front of the other band mates. They, in turn, looked at each other with morbid curiosity. In that moment, Zim knew he was fucked. His face went red as he stood up, turning the other direction. His voice cracked only in the slightest, "I don't know what you're talking about." Manson's smirk only widened, as he let out yet another chuckle, "Oh really?"

Curse words shot from Zim's brain as he tried his best not to show any reaction. He shuffled on his feet. Under his shorts was the same Disney Princess Pull-ups that he wore on stage, not too long before, out of sight, and a total secret to everyone. Not so much anymore. "What?" laughed Pogo, "Has Zim pissed himself or something?" Manson cocked his nonexistent eyebrow, staring Zim down with triumph. "Oh, well I don't know...has he?"

"What the fuck are you-" started the guitarist. "Don't act like you don't know," laughed Manson, "You know exactly what you're wearing." Twiggy came over, curiously, "What's he wearing?" he looked the shorter man up and down with a puzzled expression. "Nothing," Zim snapped. He took a step back, but Manson took a step forward, his stature, once again, being so much more intimidating. The man made Zim feel so damn small.

"Come on, Zim, why don't we show them?" He asked. Fuck the lighting techs, picking on Zim Zum was way more interesting, tonight. He came closer, until Zim was pinned against the dressing room wall. The guitarist hardly squeaked in shock, as Manson put both hands on his hips, taking to unbuttoning his shorts. "Stop!" He pushed them away, but it had already been done.

"Is...is that a fucking diaper?" asked Pogo, with both amusement and disgust rolling off his tongue. Zim was mortified, as he stood frozen against the wall, shorts undone completely, to reveal the pink undergarment. Princess Belle and Cinderella's smiling faces printed on the front, peeked out from behind the fabric of his shorts. "Oh my god, I wish I had my camera, this is too good," laughed Ginger.

"No, it's a Pullup," The singer responded to Pogo's question. "Seems like Zimmy, here, heeds help going potty all by himself, doesn't he?" His tone softened to a mushy taunting that gave Zim chills. "Fuck you," Zim clenched his jaw with anger. Manson tutted his lips, "Hey now, those are big words for such a little baby," he warned, "you better watch your mouth, before you get a spanking." This comment made Twiggy giggle.

"He's a big-kid now!" sang Twiggy, causing everyone but Zim to laugh. "Fuck you," repeated the guitarist, as he held back tears. "Hey," Manson's tone went stern as he furrowed his brow, "Take them off." Zim started in disbelief, "w-what?" his lip quivered ever so slightly. "Your boots and your clothes. Take them off," Manson said, "Now." His menacing tone sent a chill up Zim's spine.

Just before Zim could even ask why, Manson spoke up again, "Or do you need me to help you?" The corners of his lips grew upward in a somewhat evil smirk. No, he definitely didn't need that. With trembling hands, Zim gripped his shorts and lowered them slowly, trying to concentrate on not letting his tears fall in front of his band mates. The moment his entire pink princess pullup was revealed, the room was sent into a fit of giggles.

His shorts were discarded to the floor, and his hands rushed back up to his face as he wiped his teary eyes, smearing the black makeup to his cheek. The frontman snapped his fingers and pointed downward, "boots and stockings, next," he commanded. Zim stared him down for a moment, simply mumbling a quick "I hate you" that wouldn't phase Manson either way.

He bent down and started to unlace his boots. "No, but seriously, where's the camera?" Ginger repeated. "Zim, I don't get it, how does the thought of 'I'm going to put on a undergarment for kids' even cross your mind?" asked Pogo. "Eww, you're into that Daddy Dom shit, aren't you, faggot?" Ginger teased. "I soo bet he is!" Twiggy chimed in.

Not once did Zim think he'd be pushed to tears. There he was, a grown man with tears rolling down his cheeks, standing before the band mates he thought were his friends, now wearing nothing but the Pull-Ups meant for little girls. He turned his head and tightly clenched his eyes shut, trying to hide the fact that he was starting to cry. Pull-Ups weren't quite diapers but they gave him a sense of security when wearing them. He felt like such an awful person. "Aww, we made little Zimmy cry," Twiggy said in a sickly sweet tone that made Zim's ears burn.

"What's the matter, Zim? You gotta go potty?" asked the big singer. Zim sullenly shook his head and let a quick sob escape him, staring down at his feet. But he lied through his teeth, when he'd been holding it the entire concert. Manson persisted, as if he were talking to a three year-old, "Come on, buddy, you want me to take you to the potty?" he teased, earning more laughter from the others. He held out his hand politely, in offering.

Twiggy glanced over Zim's pullup, "Are you a pissy baby? Do you need to be changed?" he taunted Zim further. The poor guitarist just kept his head down and cried, not even fighting his achingly full bladder. It didn't matter anymore, they were going to laugh at him, regardless.

A soft piddling sounded, and Manson raised his brow. They all watched in both shock and amusement as Zim helplessly wet his Pull-Ups. The padding swelled at the crotch, and made little pink flowers appear on the front, to show all that he was wet. "Oh my god," Pogo exclaimed. The soft undergarment expanded with warm piss, as it dribbled in thin streams down the inside of Zim's smooth legs and into the dressing room carpet. "I didn't think he would actually!" exclaimed the keyboardist in horror.

"What a little bitch" said Twiggy, through his chuckling. "Come on, guys, let's go," said Pogo, "This shit's getting too weird." Zim just stood there, filled with both shame and embarrassment, as the three band mates left the room with disgust. Manson was grinning wickedly, however, as new sadistic thoughts were racing through his mind, on how he could torment his poor guitarist. 

"Zim," he said sternly, "You didn't even try!" He gave a frustrated sigh, as part of his little 'fatherly role play', "I would have taken you to the toilet, but it seems you didn't even want to try to be a big boy," He looked over the weeping guitarist, "You just wanted to piss yourself, huh? Now look at you. What a mess!"

"I bet you like being a pissy little bitch, don't you?" asked the frontman. Zim sniffed and replied with yet another, "I fucking hate you." Manson tutted his lips again and sighed, "Well, let's see what that gets you, now," was all he said before pulling the guitarist back from the wall and laying a firm smack down to his padded ass. Zim emitted a gasp, the soaked material made the sting so much worse. 

"See? You ruined your nice clean pullup, and made a puddle on the floor," stated Manson. His big strong hand made contact with Zim's bottom again. "I ought a stick your nose into the messy carpet like a dog!" he yelled in frustration, his hand crashing down and colliding with Zim's soaked bottom again, and again. He was not showing mercy. "Don't think I won't!" each smack was harder than the last. All of the singer's anger toward the lighting techs was coming out, and Zim was the unfortunate target.

"P-Please st-stop!" Zim cried. Manson chuckled, "Oh?" he smacked Zim's ass once more, earning a yelp in response. "Here you are, acting like you're two years old, and you have the audacity to tell me to stop?" He pulled Zim by his arms, not even paying attention to his struggles against him. "You've got to learn, little boy," the singer growled, "I don't take no shit, especially from little insignificant maggots like you." He raised his hand and lay a firm smack down to Zim's cheek, stunning the guitarist, entirely. "You're gonna learn," he repeated.

Zim just stared at Manson with wide, tearful eyes, frozen with fear, "Wha-" Manson smacked his face again, hard. "Shut the fuck up!" He threw the smaller man down to the floor in a heap. "Here, if you like being pissy so much," started Manson, pulling his penis from his costume, "Then here you go." A stream of warm urine started raining down on the guitarist, as he lay there sobbing, covering his face in shame. Manson threw his head back with a soft sigh, as he pissed.

Zim could feel the liquid rolling down his bare skin and pooling around him. Manson came over, lifting the elastic waist band of Zim's pullup at the back, and aimed his hot stream into the younger man's undergarment. "Dirty little faggot," growled the singer, as he finished relieving himself, "You fucking stink."

The singer paused a moment, hearing Zim sob violently as he lay on the floor soaked with piss. Manson walked over to the bathroom, where he opened the door and turned the light on. He went over to the large shower and turned the cold water on full blast. 'That should get the little fucker clean,' he thought.

He walked back over to Zim's pathetic form, where the guitarist was still sobbing on the floor. The singer nudged him firmly in the ribs, with his big boot, "Get the fuck up." No answer. A small kick in the ribs might do it. The blow caused Zim to wheeze, barig his teeth in pain. Manson grabbed Zim's face in frustration and gave another smack to his cheek. A faint red hand print was already starting to form. "I said, get the fuck up!" yelled the large singer, "or I'll make you get up, bitch."

Zim wiped his nose and scrambled to his knees, his Pullup was heavy with urine and sagging around his hips. He slowly stood to his feet. Manson scoffed, "Look at you," he came forward and took Zim's reddened face in both hands, firmly, startling the frail guitarist. As Zim looked up at him with his big green eyes, like a frightened child, the singer wiped the tears and mascara still dripping from his red-rimmed eyes with his thumbs. "Your nose is snotty, your diaper is pissy." 

The singer sighed, "just what am I going to do with you, little boy?" The question rumbled deeply from his throat like thunder. Zim only swallowed a whimper, in fear of what the singer would do. The brief moment of softness turned to anger again, as Manson took a handful of Zim's silky, ebony hair, "Get your filthy ass in the shower." He pulled, making Zim squeak in pain, but he didn't dare try to struggle again, he could only beg through his sobs, "P-Please."

Manson paid no attention to the smaller man's cries, as he pulled his unwilling form to the bathroom and pushed him into the painfully cold shower. Zim yelped again, feeling the water on his skin like pins and needles. He leaned against the wet ceramic tiles and just stood there, staring at Manson fearfully, hugging his body for some sort of warmth. He felt so vulnerable, like he was just a little kid again. He slid down the wet linoleum tiles and hugged his knees, as the water crashed down upon him.

Manson just bared a wicked smile, turning to walk out of the room, "Those Pull-Ups look cute on you, Princess," he admitted, "Hope to catch you wearing them again soon."


End file.
